Son of Bathory
by Sea19
Summary: Elizabeth Bathory and Alucard have a son who seeks revenge on the girl that brought his mother s crimes to light. Through her bloodline he meets Willow, a relative of Snow White herself. When Willow realizes this mysterious strangers true identity, can she find it in herself to vanquish him or will she learn to trust a man that may end up killing her?
1. Chapter 1

This idea to pair off Elisabeth Bathory and Alucard came to me a while ago and I`m just testing the waters to see what everyone thinks of it. It takes place in the Hellsing world but also uses the historically true parts of Snow White. I haven`t decided if all the character of Hellsing will be represented in this fanfic, but Alucard will most defiantly be in it and Integra as well if all goes according to plan. It`s been a long time since I read/ watched any of Hellsing so I will not be addressing the main storyline probably at all. Sorry if I botch some culture related information, I`m not from England or Slovakia, I`m just an ignorant American and all the information I find is from the internet, which may not be trustworthy in the first place. Rated M for gore, language, sex and more fun stuff.

Erzsebet Bathory 1614 Hungary (Modern Day Slovakia)

A thin trickle of silver light peaks through the stone wall of Castle Csejthe, allowing me to glimpse the presence of the moon. I yearn to be out in the air of midnight, away from this accursed cell. I should be upstairs with my closest companions, sipping fresh blood blended with wine and watching the fire lash in its hearth, yet this is not so. The sight of their raw burning bodies still lies fresh in my mind and stirs a vengeance within my soul that cannot be quenched within the cage I have found myself in. My own cousin, Thurzo, had them thrown into a fire after witnessing our crimes. A pity they were not so blessed as me, or I might have company in this cell. Helena Jo, my children`s own wet nurse, would have made a lousy Vampiress, her value of life was too great. Her wit would suit my purposes though, as always. Dorca however, had a lust in her cruelty that even I have admired in our past affairs in the cells below my castle. Dorca would gladly share this stone chamber with me and make for amusing company. Even Ficzko would be company cherished here in the pitiful state of loneliness. A lifelong sentence sounds all the more grueling when one has the capacity to live forever and is completely alone.

"It is good for Thurzo that he marked the walls as such," I state to the empty air, running my fingers over the white paint that truly confines me to this stony hell. The thought of biting into the puny veins of his neck makes me dizzy with hunger and I do my best to dismiss it. I am not able to release myself from this cell, even with the powers Darvula gave me so long ago at the start of our escapades. If she were alive still, I may not be in this situation. She would have never let Madelin escape, the little tramp her father dubs "Snow White". . .

My thoughts stray to the dark visitor that would come to me in years past. He seemed so regal, as if some dark prince visited the castle on a random night while my husband was away. Vlad Tepes entranced me with his long raven hair and unflinching crimson eyes. He seemed to enjoy a nude noblewoman bleeding out onto the table: It aroused him as much as I, I think, to see a pair of breasts covered in blood and the owner dying on the dining room furniture. The mysterious man loved me well during every visit until my belly swelled with child. Victor soon arrived, bursting from my womb in a flurry of inhuman screams with talons lashing at my maid. My son was a monster with black cloudy skin, and red eyes glaring from not only his head but his legs and arms and his little ebony chest. Victor killed my maid, sinking his long white fangs into her neck and tearing the head from her shoulders before feasting upon her ripe young flesh minutes after being born. It made me proud to look upon this son, a legacy that wasn`t tainted by my husband`s weak blood. He was filled with the cruelty and madness that brought Vlad and I together, yet the boy`s only likeness to either of us was the red eyes that sprouted from his body. Victor suckled from his father`s finger and grew more human like in his appearance until the monster looks were abashed completely from him. I was left with a handsome boy that looked a small version of his father, chasing after animals and parading them throughout my castle when they had been gutted. That is ages before now, preceding my husband`s death 17 years ago. My son left just after Davula died, vowing to find his father and learn secrets from him that I could not teach him. I am glad he was not here when the pitiful girl, Snow White, came tumbling from my castle with all my secrets. Thurzo would have him in a cell as well, hungry and angry for all eternity, just as I sit now. While I rot behind my own walls, my son will lurk in the open, exacting revenge upon all those who have wronged me. This thought brings me peace, and I hope Vlad will have our son seek vengeance for the punishment I have been given. Until I can be released from this prison, if that even be possible, I will have faith that Victor will follow in his mother`s footsteps.

341 years later- 1945 Cachtice, Slovakia. Elisabeth Bathory`s Castle

The walls tremble and crack, as if hit by an unseen force. I feel the spell that binds me to this prison break as a metal hammer lodges itself in the stone, but I cannot move in my weakness. A man in thin green clothing appears through the dust. He speaks in German to others outside, gesturing to my wraith-like body. Another man enters the small chamber from behind him, clad in a thin white undershirt and green trousers that match the other man. Clumsily, he trips over a stone and falls face first toward the uneven ground. The hand that is out to brace his fall snaps as it makes contact with the floor, the bone pushing out of his skin and blood running onto the stones about my legs. A mere drop lands on my pale foot, the blood absorbing into my skin at once. It is so small, but enough. I reach for the wounded man and sink my teeth into his jugular. His blood is sweet on my tongue and I drink from him as a man dying of thirst does water. He is empty within a minute. As I pull away from the fallen victim, his comrade lurches at me, comprehension dawning at last. I am stronger now and move out of his way easily. This savior is not so sweet as my first treat, but I feel his strength within me, the blood rich and pulsing in my belly as I have been without for centuries. The ruin about me is surely not my castle; it exists as merely a pile of stone compared to the exquisite conditions I left it in. I break from my cell at last to explore the new night that approaches. Only a glimpse of the sun remains, making an early morning for me. Still, lights blaze in the town in odd hues, inviting my presence. From this tower, I can tell the town has grown immensely since my rein. Men yell from behind, probably realizing that two of their own are dead. It matters not. I will find Madelin Thurzo, and anyone related to her, and I will sip upon their blood as I was meant to years ago. You are mine Snow White.

.

.

Willow Nota, 2013, London, England

"I know the stories, but you never said you were related to the woman!" Andrea says sipping her beer drunkenly.

"Grandmother used to say that Madelin was Bathory`s 2nd cousin or something? Yeah that sounds right. It was her father that walled the crazy bitch in her tower."

"I thought we found that the Grimm`s Snow White came from Spain originally?" Andrea pants, pulling her long brown hair from her flushed cheeks.

"Yeah, but the name and the stepmother were very much based on Elisabeth, according to grandmother. That was what they called Madelin, Snow White, and of course, the stepmother`s obsession with beauty and blood is from the Hungarian lengend."

"No dwarves then either?" Mark asks slipping an arm around me.

"Well, supposedly Bathory had a henchman that was a dwarf that used to cut up the girls, but that's the only one that I`ve heard of. Those originate from the Spanish tale, I believe." More people gather around our little circle, interested in hearing the true story of Disney`s famous tale, Snow White. My skin prickles with uneasiness, for the tale has never charmed me and I feel odd about speaking it here.

"She has that look, like Snow White does!" Mark exclaims as if he said something worthwhile. My peers laugh with him and note my appearance as well. It`s defiantly not the first time a person has noticed. When my friends and I chose what fairytale we belonged to in Elementary School, I was always picked to be Snow White. It gets awfully annoying when I`d much rather be a Mulan or Esmeralda, but I have since gotten over that. Besides, why fret over a stupid game?

Mark nuzzles his face into my shoulder while his hand snakes around to rub my belly. There`s lust in his brown eyes when he looks at me. His desire doesn`t bother me: I rather think that it is one of his few useful qualities. If one considers the ability to get hard in an instant a quality. A soft kiss meets mine, the bitter taste of alcohol drifting through our open mouths. Mark pulls away, winking at a friend of his that stands behind me. He likes to flaunt that we fuck to all of his friends as if it were some big accomplishment. If every man acted the same way, there are quite a few who would flaunt that prize.

"I think we should get out of here, Will. All this talk of Snow White and Princes kind of makes me wanna-" I place a kiss over his mouth before he can finish speaking. Really, who gets horny over the tale of some bloodthirsty bitch? I suppose I am hypocritical in that, since I am wanton of the princely boy as well. Gold hair and soft loving brown eyes, I think we could have something if the boy wasn`t so dimwitted. A medical student, this idiot`s going to be a brain surgeon someday! He`s quite book smart and remembers everything he hears, yet his sense of the real world is off. He can`t understand why I have to work to stay in school, for example. Mark pulls me away from the party in Andrea`s flat towards the hall. With his hands roaming over me I can`t concentrate well on my thoughts and I stop trying. After the door closes, he gropes my breasts, pushing me up against the wall. I think he would fuck me out here in the open if I have the guts to let him. I don`t.

"Hold your horses buddy. I`m only two minutes down the street from here." He groans in irritation but lets me lead him down the stairs and out into the night. We are nearly to the dark green house when Mark lifts me onto his thick shoulders. After a playful slap to my butt, he snatches the keys from my back pocket and inserts them into the lock. Even in his drunken state he steps over the hole in my entryway. I slide my red shirt over my head and remove my shorts, before running up the stairs. Mark chases after, as I expected, pulling clothes off as he walks. He places a hand on the banister and it wobbles dangerously, threatening to fall. I undo my lacy black bra, holding it out before him in triumph. I throw it in his face and run away again, up another flight of stairs. My flats come off at the top and I hurry towards my room. Mark catches me at the doorway pushing me to the hardwood floor. His clothes are gone, lost somewhere in our game, and already his hard cock pushes against my thigh. Mark`s hot mouth kisses the spot behind my ear, tasting and teasing the spot until I can hold back moans no longer. He moves to my breast and looks up at me watching me squirm as his tongue rolls gently over my nipple. Softly he bites and I pull at his hands, wanting them to do _something, anything_. My prince obliges, running a finger over my already soaked opening before pushing it in.

"Mark!" My voice rings shrill about the house but I don`t care amid this ecstasy. He knows what I want, but keeps going until I say it. "Please, uh, ah! I w-want you!" With a snide smirk, he brings his penis to my mouth before lowering himself and granting my wish. He teases my clit with his cock trying to draw out sex, but I want him too much. I push myself down onto him before he can stop me until he gives up, thrusting in and out as I want him to. He is merciless. The thrust of his hips is hard and fast hitting me deep inside. He rolls over so I can be on top and I ride as he did, leaning back and feeling every ridge and curve of his erect penis. Mark latches on to my other breast, knowing there is no need to guide me. I feel a heat burning deep down in the depths of me, spurning me on even though my knees chaff against the wood of the floor. I can tell Mark is on the brink as well and I move in flurried circles, causing my partner to shout and moan and try to stop me, but he pulls out and cums anyways knowing that I`ve driven him over the edge, a puddle of white spilling upon the floor. The prince kisses me before he runs to grab a towel from the bathroom and clean the mess up.

"I`m not done with you yet," Mark says tossing the towel somewhere into the darkness and pulling my hips to his.

"Good, I might have been angry if you had just left me hanging," I joke back, kissing his tan shoulder. He picks me up and takes me to my bed, the destination all along. A finger snakes inside me once again, finding the spot he knows I love and rocking the digit against it. He puts me there suddenly, orgasm hitting me hard and wracking my body as the heavenly spasms take control. My head lolls back and I see it in the through the glass. A pair of red eyes in the window, studying, watching my euphoria while the face is shaded by the black night. I pull away from Mark, still panting, to walk towards the see-through frame. There are no red eyes, nor unfamiliar shadows. I must have imagined the man sitting in the tree with the crimson eyes.

. . .

I don`t see Mark much since he attends University at the other side of town. Newham`s medical school keeps him busy. Mostly, I busy myself with work at East Ham`s Bakery, cake decorating. This is a passion of mine, one of the few things I wouldn`t mind doing for the rest of my life. It pays the bills for my dad`s old house, but not renovations I`m sad to say. The huge green house is falling apart. A creaky board here and there turned into holes after a while and the bad cement in the basement caused the place to flood. Who knew such little problems escalated into big ordeals? If Dad was still in England he would know what to do, but America suits him better apparently. That`s what I gather from his letters anyway. I sit at home watching Dr. Who reruns until 6:30 comes around. If I stay much longer I will be late for school. My bag is ready by the door and I hurry out just as sunset approaches. The walk to the Community Education building is not long, 15 minutes at the most, and I relish the time to enjoy the early evening. With reluctance, I remove myself from the sight of the purple sky to go to class. It is expected that entry level statistics is boring, but Andrea keeps me busy helping her with some equations at the back of class while our teacher drones on and on about normal distribution. I`m rather good at understanding numbers, that`s why Andrea asked me to take this class with her. I needed it anyways, even if my degree is only in liberal arts. Two and half hours later we walk out into the night, a pale slip of the moon showing, and campus mostly empty.

"I wish I was that good with math," Andrea says gripping my arm tenderly.

"I wish I was a good swimmer, you don`t see me complaining." My friend nudges me slightly.

"Don`t be like that, Willow. I`m glad you can help, I just wish you didn`t have to, ya`know? I just need this one class and I`m through with math for the rest of University." She fumbles in her bag for something before starting to panic. "I must have left my phone in the room, I`ll be back ok?" I move to follow her but she waves me off, leaving me alone in the cold night. I lean against the side of the building waiting for her to come back. Many of my classmates walk by, some waving or yelling a quick goodbye, but one stranger lurks among the rest. He walks by leisurely as if checking out the college behind the raybans that shield his eyes.

"Can I help you?" I call towards the mysterious man. His gaze focuses on me and he seems to be calculating the right answer.

"I was checking out some classes here. Got a bit lost." The man shrugs his broad shoulders nonchalantly as he talks of his misfortune.

"Where are you headed?" I ask, curious about the stranger.

"I was looking for the ah, Geology department but. . ." he trails off, allowing me to come to my own conclusion. I hear a slight accent in his voice as he draws nearer. I appears rarely, the ch words sounding more like sh and the t sounds pronounced as few people from this area do. Under the street light he is handsome with chiseled, sharp features and dark hair that falls into his eyes often. He is pale, even more than I am oddly enough and much taller. His looming figure shrouds me in darkness as we speak.

"That would explain why you`re lost; It`s not even on this campus. If you head North on Lorin Drive for a few miles the Geology department is there. The first building on the right when you enter the campus, in fact." The smile that graces his face is sly and sexy, though not allowing me a look at the man`s teeth. "I`m Willow by the way," I say, deciding that I like this stranger.

"Victor," the deep voice says, offering me a hand to shake.

"Do you always wear sunglasses at night?"

"You will never catch me without them," Victor says, smile growing. "How long have you went here?"

"Three years. I should finish up my degree next spring, unless I change my mind again. . ."

"Again?"

"Don`t ask. Where are you from? You`re accent is different than the usual dialects around here. I`m having trouble placing it." I feel like I`m prying. He doesn`t seem to mind, but seems rather glad that I have the sudden interest.

"Take a guess." He folds his arms ready for my answer.

"It seems eastern European. Possibly Romanian but more familiar. I still can`t place it though."

"I`m impressed, you`re very close, but not Romanian, I`m afraid. I`m from Slovakia."

"Odd, your accent is different than my grandmothers. . ." I say glancing up at the angled features of the man.

"I`ve moved around frequently since being born there. What part is your family from?"

"Cachtice. They moved to England in the forties."

"Ah, that`s a famous place with the Čachtický hrad. A tourist trap now," he sighs longingly. "It`s a very beautiful city, known for all the wrong reasons. I`m sure your aware of its history, heard the tales from your grandmother?"

"Of course." When Victor says no more, I urge him on. "Do you think she did all that?"

"That she killed all those women? Maybe. Some think that she was framed so the King could steal her land." He places a finger under his chin and thinks for a second. "Being one of Madelin`s descendant's, you probably believe she was a murderer, yes?"

"I think they are tales told far too much. They are the past why bring them up?" He laughs at my statement, a loud bellow rippling through his broad chest.

"The past can hold many keys," he says, the accent slipping through more and more as he speaks. He grasps my chin in a pale hand suddenly, leaning down to whisper in my ear. "Be careful what you will find in it, little Willow." I shouldn`t just let him be so intimate with me, but my attraction to this mysterious guy is hard to ignore, especially with his closeness. The way his tongue accentuates every letter in my name so vividly turns me on more than I care to admit, but it cannot be helped. As quickly as we met, he drifts away from me, leaving a faint musky smell behind.

"How did you know I was related to her?" I shout too late, Victor`s form retreating into the night he slips into, as if he were a ghost.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:**

**Some fluff in this chapter that lead to a very interesting conversation with Victor. . . I actually know where this story is going mostly so expect some excitement and action in the next chapter. Count on the pride and joy of Hellsing making an appearance. Also, there`s an incident where blood drinking shows a person`s memories, that isn`t from Hellsing by Kouta Hirano but it plays a part in some of this story so just roll with it please. Thank you sillykitty123 for already reviewing!**

**Warning: slight amount of drug use in this chapter!**

Willow

"So tell me about this guy, Willow," Ellie grins pulling a pound cake from the freezer.

"I met him once; I don`t know why Andrea had to go and tell everyone about him."

"Yeah, well the way she talks you were about to run off after him. He must have been quite the looker if that`s the truth. Or was she lying eh?" She places the cake on a plate and ices it with buttercream, occasionally looking up with an expectant smile on her face.

"Not about how hot he was, that`s for sure! You should have seen that bad boy smile and he was so tall and looked pretty buff, but not too buff, ya know? Just how I like em. . ."

"Ah, so the drooling wasn`t exaggerated."

I fling a bit of buttercream from the cake I`m working on at Elle, hitting her apron. "I was not drooling. . much."

"Do that one more time and I will personally throw a bucket of icing over your head!" She warns, giggling across the table.

"Seriously though, he was so beautiful I don`t even remember what he was wearing! He could have been walking around naked under that coat for Christ`s sakes."

"I bet you`d like to know that. . ." She moves to the mechanical rolling pin.

"Can you roll me some purple fondant?" I asks still icing my cake.

"Yup, gimme a sec," Ellie grabs some small buckets of the fondant and mixes them together for me with food coloring before rolling it out.

"You`re the best," I say, taking the sugaring substance from my friend.

"Of course. I still owe you for helping me with that pirate cake." She places some green fondant over the small circular cake and soothes it out, as I do.

"Will, you`ve got a friend up here!" Adam calls from the front. I quickly place my cake in the freezer before heading around the bend to meet my visitor.

"Maybe its Victor." Ellie whispers before I leave. I know that it won`t be, but her comment gets my hopes up anyways. I`m a bit sad to see that it`s only Mark.

"Hey Will, how`s it goin?" He asks looping an arm around me.

"Uh, good I guess. What`re you doing here?" It`s odd that Mark shows up at the shop; he never has before.

"Well, I wanted to know if you were doing anything tonight, so we could go out to Mance`s for his b-day bash." He looks away, almost shyly. An act that is very unlike Mark. "We don`t have to stay long or anything so-"

"That`s cool, I`ll go. Ellie`s the closer tonight so I can probably leave in a half hour or so," I mention smiling up at his golden features. He kisses my forehead gently and winks before leaving the store. When I return to the back to put my supplies away, Ellie keeps looking at me slyly.

"Seems like Mr. Med School wants to be more than just fuck buddies. I`d hate to see how he reacts to your new friend."

"Me too, but it was him after all who didn`t want to date."

"Why`s that?" She asks putting a finished lime green cake with flowers on it in the freezer.

"Because his parents will throw a fit if he marries anything less than English Royalty," I answer rolling my eyes. "That`s ok, he`s too high maintenance for me anyways, I think. Too high strung, I need someone more laid back and not so. . . pretentious. He`s a good friend and all, and great in the sack, but I honestly don`t think I could have a relationship with him."

"Hence the whole fuck buddy thing," Ellie laughs as I take my apron off.

"My feelings exactly."

. . .

The party is boisterous and massive at the mansion Mance lives at. I`ve only met the birthday boy himself twice and briefly at that, but Mark and him are good friends who`ve gone through med school the whole way through together. In fact, most of the people grinding and dancing with one another are unfamiliar to me, but the alcohol is free, so who am I to complain? I dance with Mark mostly, but when some of his friends call him upstairs, I let him go while I explore the party. A group of people smoke pot in the corner, laughing in the haze of a grey fog that surrounds them. I turn to the kitchen where the keg is, but have had enough of beer and want something more potent. My hands shuffle through empty cupboards until I find my prize. Cuervo tequila. I twist off the plastic cap and drink a bit straight from the bottle, until my head spins and the low grade tequila burns in my throat.

"Damn, you`re gonna kiss the floor if you keep goin like that!" A voice calls from behind me. The owner is short but built well, with a blue and white sports t-shirt on and jersey shorts.

"You don`t know me well, if you assume that."

"Then maybe you want something that will?" He lifts an eyebrow, coming closer and letting the light drift over his features. He`s good looking but not exceptionally, with broad shoulders and a cute smile. I`m not interested in trouble tonight, but am curious for whatever potent drink he can provide that`s worse than tequila.

"I`m Willow," I say, offering a hand for him to shake.

"Ah, Mark`s told me about you. Devron," he offers before leading me up the circling stairs. It is a long trek to the top and as we near the fourth floor, the pulsating music down below fades to murmur of sound twisting up the steps.

"You`re in school with Mark, then?" I ask now that we can hear each other speak.

"Yeah, for the past two semesters now." He stops at a dark wooden door at the top of the stairs before gesturing to me. While smoothing a hand across my back he pushes the door open revealing the _true_ party occurring inside. Some people smoke and drink in groups around the room while others sleep in a heap on the carpeted floor, having partied too hard. I see bare bodies entwined in the back of the room and hear their groans of ecstasy over the noise of people. A girl approaches me, her hand closed tight around an object.

"All people up here are required to take these," she says in a bored voice, placing two little green pills in my hand.

"What are they?" I ask, looking from Devron to the blonde woman delivering the pills.

"Don`t bore me with your questions just take them. You`ll have a good time." She walks away then, disappearing in the throng of people.

"She`s right you know; these will make you higher than a cloud. Then I can take you to see Mark," Devron mentions winking at me.

"I think it would be best if I saw him now," I growl, moving past the brut that led me into this trap. He struggles to catch up when I push through the mass of swaying people and quickly I lose Devron. It is only when I get close to the pit of people grinding in the middle of the room that I notice how strange the party goers seem to be acting. Their words are slurred as if they can`t even understand themselves and their limbs move about wildly, their owners uncaring where they go. I slip past the sweaty couple fucking in a corner to a back room hidden by the crowd. When I push the door open, I feel instantly that something is wrong, the emotion growing in my gut with dread. Mark is there, laughing and snorting on the floor, acting as drunk as everyone else. Only Mark has a trail of blood dripping from his head.

"Jesus Christ, we should get you to a hospital," I yell bounding over to him. I pull some tissues from a box on the table of the room and place them gently against his head. Mark swings at my wrist drunkenly, knocking the gesture away. His arms find a way around my waist and pull me to him before he kisses me hard on the mouth. A hand snakes its way up my shirt, pulling at my bra and then my breasts. I push Mark away with all the strength I can manage.

"You didn`t take the pills did you?" He asks with bulging eyes that can`t manage to focus on any one thing.

"Don`t worry about me. We should get out of here, Mark." Again I pull at him trying to make the man follow me out of this hell-hole.

"Don`t be such a pr-ude Willow, it`s so much fun in here." Another man pulls me away from Mark, throwing pills down my throat. I choke and sputter on them until they accidentally slide down. The man squeezes me tighter to hold me in place as I struggle against him, trying to make myself vomit out the pills. It is to no avail. I feel the dizziness sweep over in an anxious haze, my heart about to pound out of my chest. Mark is next to me, kissing my mouth while tearing at my clothes, and some of his friends help as well: I feel their hands on me. Then I am flying away from the aggressive men. The arms around me hold tight, protective, not groping. Faces of party-goers fly past, glancing at us with shocked expressions or not at all. I can`t tell exactly who carries me; his face is covered in shadow. Cool air wafts over me, jolting me awake in the man`s arms. Strange, I don`t remember falling asleep.

"Where are your keys," he asks faintly, setting me down on cold concrete. I reach into my shorts but find the clothing missing, as well as my keys.

"Check the mat under the door," I whisper at my savior before the light fades to an empty black.

. . .

Victor

The little Snow White sleeps peacefully against my chest, her mouth slightly agape allowing languid breaths to pass between her lips. She is lovely as all of her ancestors have been; I should know, I`ve seen every one of them. She is the epitome of what Snow White was so many years ago with the rich black hair flowing in perfect curls down Willow`s back, skin pale like snow, and lips a swollen red, as if the girl had been eating cherries all day to stain her mouth. The carbon copy of Madelin Thurzo has the same high cheeks lightly colored and defined but still soft in some way. I trace her pretty cheeks with my finger for a moment. It seems her skin is as soft as it looks; smooth and creamy like warm milk. Willow`s body is young and elastic with seductive curves around her breasts and hips. She is truly blessed to be so endowed, most women cannot say the same without surgery these days. . . My companion's features even remind me of mother slightly, her face is aristocratic-looking and her hair was obviously inherited from Thurzo`s family, and therefore my mother`s. We are kin, this girl and I, but still I wish to bring her death. It is lucky for me that she is distant from her family. She is the first descendant of Snow White that I have managed to get close to. Her family would recognize me as they have in the past and stop this pursuit. They know I wish to end the line that destroyed my mother`s reputation and tore me from her.

_I could kill this little rat. I could do it for mother_. A blue vein in the girl`s throat calls to me, the smooth skin begging to be tasted, but I resist the thoughts. Mother could be alive and she would be furious if I took this delight from her. But I can deliver this delightful prize. If only I could find the Blood Countess herself. When the ruinous castle was raided by German soldiers in the 1940`s, it was said that there was a skeleton found in the tallest tower. I know this to be true, only not completely. Men were reported deceased from an "accident" on site but I know Erzsebet (Elisabeth) was responsible. I can feel her presence lurking somewhere in the world, faint and weary, but awake all the same. I can find Mother and bring her the girl so we can be together as we once were, killing young victims and acting as political leaders for cover.

A sweet smell tears me from my mind, arousing a primal need in my gut that erases rational thoughts. Blood drips slow and tantalizing from the cut on the girl`s head, red and rich in the moonlight. The girl must have bashed her head when those men attacked her. Mother would not mind me taking just one small taste of her. . . Brazenly, I touch my finger to the cut letting the blood swell on my finger in one large droplet. The girl`s memories flood me when the red swirls on my tongue, fogging my head. I see a familiar woman, the grandmother that I romanced many years ago who was warned by her family to stay away, now old where she was once so young and lithe, with silver hair instead of black, telling stories about my whore Mother, or so the woman says. This burns me, as it always does when Mother is referred to as such, but my interest in Willow`s past stays any anger that flares with the comments. Her life is normal for today`s world with skateboard mishaps, a broken family split across countries, abandoned ruins that she visits, first loves, and the stereotypical University life full of sex and alcohol. This small realization surprises me since I was expecting someone more innocent, although I could tell she was no virgin from the moment I lapped eyes on the girl. I_ had_ seen her fucking the drunken rich boy. Yet there are qualities I can see she hides from others such as the secret romantic in her, wishing Mark would sweep her off her feet and defy his parents. Of all people she fancies_ him_. . .

She employs a hard working side at her job that she loves more than she lets on, as shown by the long nights perfecting decorating techniques in her kitchen. And the constant stories of Snow White and Elisabeth Bathory bother her almost as much as they do myself. Her inward cringe is apparent in all recent conversation about her heritage. I am pulled from her memories, staring at Willow`s slumbering form once more. I wish to consume more of the girl, but remember Mother, and the wrath that would come if she found out that I had even tasted the sweet blood. _It is our little secret_, I think petting her lovely hair.

My imagination stirs when I picture how Mother will react to this treasure. She can be so sweet, then cruel and kind again by turn but this would please her, I know. I prefer her emotions to my father`s indifference any day. He seemed almost ashamed of me after Mother`s incarceration, abashed at my hate for life. _Alucard_ he calls himself now, not Vlad or Dracula as it was in the old days, when he wouldn`t dream of working for humans. Dracula exists in my memory as a ghostly terror in the night drinking and killing as cruelly as he wanted, acting as my mentor in the ways of the Nosferatu and building on the spells that Davula taught me as a vampire still growing. Now, he is a Hellsing dog bent on killing his own kind with the same cruelty that punished humans once upon a time. It is strange what God does to a man. Alucard may come out of hiding to protect this family line as well. It would make for an interesting family reunion. . .

She stirs in my arms, her mind leaving its dreamlike state. I place her on the couch covering her nakedness with my leather jacket. This would be best if she did not believe I was raping her. With that in mind I fetch the girl a glass of water from the kitchen, playing the caring friend.

"Victor?" She says groggily while slowly arching herself up from the furniture.

"It`s all right, I`m right here," I whisper next to her. Her eyes light up when she spots me: It is so easy seducing Willow. The ecstasy still exists as a flash in her eyes and I can tell it disorients her more than the knock to her head. She grasps my hand tightly.

"What happened exactly?" She asks putting a hand to her forehead and leaning back on the couch, her black lacy bra showing the ripped remnants of her shirt.

"I saw those men harassing you and I didn`t want them to. . . touch you again so I took you home. It wasn`t until I was carrying you in the street that I realized who you were," I reply making my voice low and alluring. A sweet trap.

"How did you know where I lived?"

"You told me the way, weary as you were."

She buys the lie without a second thought. "I`m glad you were there; it`s hard to imagine what may have happened if you hadn`t jumped in."

"Anytime." I run my fingers over her forehead to amplify the intimacy. A dark stain crosses her cheek, noting her shyness. Power courses through me targeting the girl, yet when I test the mind control, the flow dies and strikes back at me making my head spin.

"Are you ok?" The girl asks in a flurry, rising from the couch when I fall back slightly.

"I`m fine," I bite back, irritation apparent. It seems my magic is stunted by her or something she wears. A charm or such. No matter, she is enthralled enough in my company, this new development will make for a more challenging victim. Willow comes over to help me but in the process only distracts me further. Her breasts appear amidst the torn clothing, alluring me as I have not been allured in over a hundred years. White and ripe are her smooth lean sides with her sex only covered by the thin lacy clothing, taught pale legs folded under her. She would let me have her body would I express my yearning, which is clear enough by the tug in my jeans. The beautiful girl hovers over me as I am sprawled out on the ground, obtuse to her exposed body tantalizing my thoughts. Her odd green eyes follow my stare as I consider her curves until she realizes her lack of clothes.

She folds in to cover herself and pulls my coat from the couch. "Sorry," Willow squeaks, a deep burgundy haze speckled on her cheeks.

"Don`t be; I`m not sorry." I smile over at her, just barely showing teeth, then turning serious. "You should drink, you`re still not feeling well." A pale dainty hand reaches for the water, listening to my warning. She seems to struggle with words, unsure of what to say.

"I- how did you know I was related to Elisabeth Bathory?" She asks, referring to how we parted on our last meeting.

"Most people who are from that town are of some relation to her. Besides you have that look about you." She smiles at that. "Except for the eyes. They are much different from the lineage in most of Slovakia and Hungary." I reach out to trace her eye brow, memorizing the hazy light colors that strike me so well along her pupils.

"My mother`s eyes are brown as are my grandmothers. But my father has green eyes like mine." Odd, Madelin Thurzo had rare eyes as well, blue if memory serves correctly. "Different sides of the family." She is reluctant to admit her father that deserted her at a young age to move to America.

"They are lovely," I whisper about her eyes, the first truth all evening. Our gazes meet suddenly and she lifts a hand to remove my glasses. A pale hand snakes out to catch hers. "No," I laugh gently at Willow.

"I`m sure yours are lovely, please," she begs tilting her head.

"Soon enough, sweet one," I say kissing her knuckle. Willow looks away, embarrassed once again. My senses dull as dawn approaches. "And I should leave, it`s far past my bedtime. . ." I push myself up from the ground and lend the slight girl a hand as if I were some chivalrous knight. She moves to hand me my jacket before I raise a hand in protest. "Keep it for now. Let it serve as a reminder for Friday night, if you aren't previously engaged?"

At my proposal her mouth drops slightly, surprised by the fast spur of events between us. "I don`t work that day so yeah we can go out," she says nervously.

"Great then," I smile down at her. "I`ll be here around 8:30, when the sun is down." Her face grants me a smile and I forget to resist the urges she awakens. My hand traces over her face, her smooth neck, to finally rest on her collarbone. Delicately, I pull the girl closer. I lean close and taste her mouth, soft and luscious beneath my own. She folds into my arms, resting against my thin shirt and moans softly when my tongue flicks out to taste her skin. Her kisses are gentle, yet I can tell she wants more, and shamefully so do I. I wish to feel her body quake and moan beneath my fingers but have enough sense to stop at a kiss. It appears the girl may have some power. I lean away, inwardly reluctant, and hold the small girl before turning to the door. "Be safe, little Willow," I whisper at her. I`ll be watching.

She stands in the middle of the room clad in only her underclothes and my coat, trembling still though I walk away. I smell her want, but also the slight undercurrent of fear. This should be fun. . .


End file.
